Experiment C-13by Botched LobotomyChaptersIIIIIIIVVVIIExperiment C-13, she’d called it. She’d whispered it as they’d kissed for the very first time, and Sunset hadn’t cared to ask then, but she’d mentioned it after, too. Experiment C-13 was their relationship, and Twi had called it a resounding success. Sunset remembered grinning at that, a smile she hadn’t been able to wipe away for at least a minute after. Those had been the days. Now, Sunset just felt tired, all the time. She hadn’t really noticed it at first – no way could she pinpoint when it had begun – but it had been growing nevertheless, slowly but surely. Lately she’d been thinking about it a lot. She slept for nine or ten hours, usually, in a sort of attempt to doze the yawning away, but honestly she wasn’t sure it was helping. She’d sleep in late, get up late, and wade through most of the day with the vague feeling that she should still be in bed. It was only when the sun outside slipped below the towers that she finally felt somewhat alive, but by then she only had a few hours left before bed. The worst thing about it was that she didn’t know why. She certainly hadn’t always been like this – sure, she’d never been a morning person, but hell, who was – she used to have energy, what her mother had tactfully called ‘spirit’, now she was just exhausted. Twilight hated it. She hadn’t said it in so many words, of course, Twilight wasn’t the confrontational type, but Sunset could feel it. It was the ‘morning!’ when she came home at four, it was the irritable shifting when Sunset turned restlessly in the night, it was the way breakfast (or an attempt at it) was never left out any more. Twilight probably didn’t do it intentionally, or even consciously, but the signs were there all the same. Yes, something was seriously wrong with her. And here she lay, five in the morning, dead awake, while Twi dozed quietly beside her. Sunset sighed (slowly, so as to make as little sound as possible), and tried to close her eyes. Experiment C-13 had been a success. In the three years they’d been together, she’d been happier than she ever had before. Twi, too. That was the worst thing, really – they’d been happy. And now... It was five A.M., she shouldn’t be thinking about this. She should be counting sheep or re-adding all 31,536,000 seconds in a year or whatever, not lying here thinking how tired she was and how successful their relationship had been. It had been. It had been. Sunset covered her head with an arm and groaned into it. Happy memories, happy memories. Twilight at the Canterlot Gardens, trying to smother her laughter as Sunset pointed out that the large flower she was carefully transcribing the Latin name for looked precisely like a giant pussy. The two of them at the dance, dipping outside the hall for fresh air, and just sitting, feeling the gentle vibrations through Twi’s chest as she murmured on about the stars above. The night after graduation, after sex, just lying in bed and talking about everything, the whole future stretched out before them, as real as their tightly clasped hands. Memories not just good and happy, but special too. She looked over at the moulded form of Twilight in the covers, the smooth, subtle creases in the sheets hinting at the curves underneath, and felt...hollow. Sunset didn’t feel right now the way she remembered she should – and maybe that was the fact she could see sunlight creeping in under the curtain, and the way her mouth was all dry cause she’d been trying to sleep for three hours, and it probably had a whole lot to do with the stinging round her eyes from not enough rest, but...if she was honest, she hadn’t felt like she should for a good long while. Like, three or four months. And come to think of it, now she really tried, she realised that none of those warm, happy memories, those moments where everything crystallised around her and it was all worth it, none of those memories were all that recent. In the dim light of far-too-early morning, she could just make out the mess of purple hair spilling out over the pillow. The covers rustled, unbearably loud, as she reached out to touch it. Soft, tangled, she stroked Twi’s hair gently, but even that didn’t feel like it had. There was an odd disconnect between them that wasn’t there normally, shouldn’t be there, and she didn’t know when it had started growing. What was wrong with her? Why did those happy months feel both like yesterday and so far away as to be unreachable? Why, why, why couldn’t she get to sleep? Sunset closed her eyes and tried to hold back, to bite down on the sudden tears that welled behind her eyes, burning at the rim of her exhaustion. She needed to do something, and soon. Tomorrow-soon. Today, in fact. She had to figure out what the hell was going on and how to fix it. Yeah, she would do that. Her eyes didn’t feel quite so stinging now, they lay more comfortably closed, more naturally tired. Her hand tightened on the few strands of Twilight she held, and she felt herself relax, finally. Experiment C-13, at least, had been a success. Right? IIGod, it was good to play like this again. This feeling, this sense of easy control, the music flowing up through her arms from the instrument, the rhythm and power of the thing, this was why she played. Sure, maybe it wasn’t quite as good as it had been once upon a time (when they were all together), but it was good all the same. She flashed a grin at Rainbow, who smirked right back. Yeah, this was life. The song finished in a flurry of twanging notes, a show-off ending that Sunset half-suspected Rainbow had made up on the spot. She’d always been a natural. “Phew!” The girl exclaimed, leaning back on her heels. “Good stuff.” She swung the guitar off her shoulder and slumped down on the couch behind. “Haven’t done that in a while.” Sunset leaned her own guitar carefully against the wall and sat down next to her. “Me neither,” she said with a grin. “I miss this.” “Yeah?” Rainbow's mouth twitched. “Your fancy Canterlot friends not jam like that?” “More like not at all.” Sunset grinned ruefully. “Mmm, I getcha. Not much need for electric guitarists in the team, either.” She paused, then sprang back off the couch. “Want a beer?” “Sure.” As Rainbow left the room, Sunset sank into the ratty couch, forcing herself to relax. It was always a little awkward being in a place she didn’t know, and Rainbow’s flat was a far cry from what she was used to. It was one of those student buildings which had clearly been built for some other purpose, probably in the times when being a student meant your family already had some spare property you could use, and whose renovation into thirteen individual flats had required the planner make some baffling choices. Sunset was not confident in her ability to find her way out through the maze of tiny staircases and corridors Rainbow had led her. Still, it was a nice flat. Fairly spacious, even if the kitchen was hidden behind a plastered-over chimney. But as she looked around it, the main thing she noticed was that it just fit. Sure, it was kind of an odd shape, and the soundproofing, judging from the tufted foam poking out from the window, was less than perfect, but it felt like Rainbow’s room. The mess of clothes spilling out the drawer, the tangle of wires in the corner, the small mountain of dishes she hadn’t bothered to clean up, it was exactly as Sunset would have imagined. Really, it looked like Rainbow’s old bedroom had thrown up all over her flat. “Hey,” Rainbow said, kicking the door closed as she re-entered, “sorry bout that. We keep the drinks in the basement, it’s always freezing down there.” She tossed a can to Sunset, cracking her own open as she flopped back down on the sofa. “So what’s up?” “Hmm?” Sunset let the cool liquid soothe her, savouring that first bitter sip. It was very cold. “Y’know.” Rainbow kicked off her trainers, sending them skidding halfway across the room, and shuffled closer. “How you doing? You okay?” Sunset blinked. “Uh, yeah? Course.” “It’s just...” Rainbow scooted even closer, squinting at her. “You seem kinda down.” Sunset swallowed slowly, letting the chill filter down her throat. “Just tired. What with college and all.” Rainbow laughed. “Tell me about it. Coach pushes us like he’s got a hard-on for heart attacks. I just want to sleeeeeep.” “Yeah. Very glad I don’t have to deal with that. I don’t think I could take waking up early on the weekends.” “It’s pretty bad,” agreed Rainbow. “It’s like, Friday night is not the night I want to have to go to sleep early.” “Totally.” There was a short silence while Rainbow finished her drink. “So anyway,” she continued, “how’s Twilight? Haven’t spoken to her in a few weeks.” Sunset tried to hide her wince. “Um, she’s fine.” “She keeping you up with, like, science stuff?” Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “No.” “She keeping you up with anything else?” she winked. Definitely not. “Uhhh...” Rainbow laughed. “I’m kidding! Kidding. But seriously, how are you two? She never tells me anything.” “We’re fine.” “Uh-huh.” “Yeah...fine.” “Okay.” Rainbow paused. “Is that it?” Sunset looked away, grasping for something to say. “We’re...good?” She could feel Rainbow’s stare. “Well, all right.” She sounded a little hurt. “Though I bet you’d tell Rarity.” “I...” “No, it’s cool. Um, you want to play something?” Rainbow gestured at the nest of wires under an ancient-looking TV beside her bed. She wanted to say something, she really did. Specifically, she wanted to say ‘hey, yeah, we’re really good, really happy, I love that girl, you know?’ but somehow, the words just got stuck in her mouth. So she didn’t say anything except “Sure,” and after that it just didn’t seem relevant any more. They moved over to Rainbow’s bed, and as they sat down Sunset commented that the squeaky springs must be annoying, and Rainbow only shrugged and said “Well, the soundproofing’s pretty good,” with an evil grin, and they both relaxed. Rainbow threw on some shooter, Sunset didn’t care to catch the name, and they spent the next hour or two yelling obscenities and having an absolute blast. Pizza was ordered, songs were played, and Rainbow’s friend Soarin came over to provide some hoarse emergency vocals. “You know,” said Sunset, as they sat on the back steps of the building, feeling the fast-cooling air brush their faces, “I’m glad I came over.” “Yeah?” Rainbow leaned back against the wooden post, letting out a long breath. “Yeah.” Sunset nodded, looking up at the changing sky, the moon just peeking between the dark rolling clouds. “Hey, you mind if I...?” She pulled a pack from her jacket. “Nah, go ahead.” By the time she’d shaken a cigarette from the box, Rainbow was holding a lighter. Sunset raised an eyebrow. “I remembered you always needed one,” said Rainbow with a smile. “Thanks,” said Sunset, and meant it. For a moment they sat there, as the clouds spun by overhead, and watched as the lights of the city replaced the light in the sky. “Sorry I was a bit...whatever, earlier,” she said. “Me and Twilight are in a bit of a weird place right now.” “Ah.” “It’s just...” Sunset sighed, blowing out a long line of smoke. “Honestly? I feel kind of distant. Like, detached. I mean we’re still living together and everything, and I still...still love her, but...” She looked over at Rainbow, who was watching her. “Damn, that’s, um, rough. I was just expecting you to say you were doing fine.” “I did say we were doing fine,” said Sunset flatly. “Well yeah, but more detailed.” She looked away. “Should you go see a marriage counsellor or something?” Sunset blinked. “We’re not married.” “You don’t have to be actually married to see a marriage counsellor, right?” “You...don’t?” “I don’t know,” Rainbow laughed, a little nervously. “Probably.” Sunset rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh, too. “You’re useless.” “Yeah, sorry.” Rainbow smiled. “Rarity would totally be a better person to talk to about this.” “Mmm.” Sunset sucked in another breath and slowly let it out, watching the smoke wisp and tear apart on the breeze. “Why can’t things just stay the same?” Rainbow was silent for a minute, long enough for Sunset to turn to see if she had heard. “I don’t know,” she said eventually. “Aren’t they?” Sunset didn’t have an answer. They turned back to the sky then, and after another cigarette or two, went inside. Sunset slept on an inflatable mattress Rainbow borrowed off a flatmate, and it felt like an old-school sleepover all over again, except that Rainbow had to get up early, and was already gone by the time Sunset rose. III“Darling, do try to keep still.” “I am!” “Well...try harder.” This, admittedly, was not how Sunset had imagined things going. It shouldn’t really have been a surprise, though – Rarity had always been worryingly merciless about roping them into her fashion. The couple times they’d dared to perform as a band Rarity had dressed them, and every year like clockwork they’d been her models at the school fashion show. It was only with great effort (and the promise of letting her okay their outfits) that they’d persuaded her not to make their clothes for the school dances. This, though, was new. Sunset squirmed under the intensity of Rarity's gaze, trying to resist her growing need to scratch. She could only imagine how bad Rainbow or Applejack would have been at this. “...Done – wait, hang on, just one last little – there, now we’re done.” “Oh thank goodness.” Sunset let every muscle in her body go loose, closing her eyes and letting herself hang on the chair. “Oh, no, hold on, could you sit back up for a moment—” Sunset cracked an eyelid, and saw Rarity’s mischievous grin. “Oh, ha ha, very funny.” The girl had a high, tinkling laugh, and Sunset felt a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Sorry darling, you did look rather pent-up.” Sunset gave a groan of acknowledgement, and closed her eyes again. As Rarity tidied her stuff away, Sunset slowly sat up, strength returning to her body in trickles. Rarity’s room was small, contained, and artistically untidy. If you took away the scraps of cloth, scissors, pencils, and everything else, and tidied them away in the places which were supposed to house them, the place would be genuinely clean – ordered, even. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” Sunset said, gesturing at the cluttered desk. Rarity glanced round. “Yes, well, they didn’t give me much to work with.” “It’s not too bad...” said Sunset. Rarity snorted. “Have you seen that mansion Dashie’s staying in? Horrid place, but gosh the possibilities are endless. Here I’m not even allowed to cover the walls!” She tapped the plaster with a knuckle. “Regulation blue, and I’m only allowed to alter that,” Rarity gestured to a tiny corkboard laden with everything from pictures to ribbons. Sunset noticed with a smile that several photos of the gang were pinned up alongside the magazine cutouts. “Tragic.” “Never has the word been more fitting,” agreed Rarity. “So, what can I do for you?” “Nuh-uh.” Sunset shook her head. “I want to see, first.” “Oh,” Rarity looked away. “Well you know, darling, it’s just a sketch, it’s not really worth—” If any look could say ‘I-didn’t-sit-for-however-long-to-not-see-the-drawing’, it was the one Sunset shot Rarity. “Oh, all right,” Rarity said, leaning back to grab her paper, “but it really is just a sketch.” That much, Sunset saw, was certainly true. “It’s, uh...” Rarity gave a small smile. “Not exactly up to my usual standards?” she finished. “That wasn’t what I was going to say!” “Well, it’s true.” Rarity shifted, a little uncomfortably. “The instructors say I have to practise my ‘life drawing skills’, but I think they really mean I’ve got to develop some.” Sunset frowned. “Well, it’s certainly a lot better than what I could do,” she offered. “Thanks,” Rarity smiled. “Now, enough about me, what did you want to talk about?” “It’s nothing much, really,” Sunset said quickly. “It’s just, uh, well, I was talking to Rainbow, and she said maybe I should come here.” “She did?” Rarity looked concerned. “It was just about me and Twilight,” Sunset said, “and, yeah, you’re the expert on this type of stuff, so...” Rarity nodded, a little relieved. “I see.” She straightened her skirt and sat up, concentration setting in her eyes, and Sunset thought that all she needed was a notebook and pen, or – yes, a pipe, and the detective look would be complete. “So...yeah.” There was a pause, until Rarity prompted, “So how are you an Twilight doing, anyway?” “Um,” Sunset blinked. “We’re doing fine.” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. I guess we’re doing okay. I just feel a bit...” detached, removed, alone “out of it?” “Out of it,” repeated Rarity, and Sunset got the distinct impression she should be scribbling that on a small cream page. “Yeah, like obviously we live together and stuff, but – well, I don’t see as much of her as I used to, but that’s kinda my fault – really it’s that I feel separate.” Yes, that was it. Separate like she didn’t know what Twilight was feeling any more, separate like they didn’t sit next to each other on the sofa, separate like their clocks were slowly de-syncing... “Separate?” Rarity tapped her leg thoughtfully. “Do you think it would it help you two to spend some quality time together? Clear your schedules for a weekend, set aside a day or two, or even a week, go have a meal?” “Umm...” Sunset couldn’t remember the last time they’d eaten together. “You two have a date night, right?” “We live together, isn’t a date night sort of pointless?” “Mon Dieu! Darling, a date night is the key to a healthy relationship.” “Oh.” “When did all this start?” Wasn't that just the thing. “I’m not sure.” Rarity frowned. “If you work that out, you could find out what changed. When was the last time you two properly talked?” Sunset swallowed. “I...we talk.” “All right,” Rarity sounded a little calmer. “Then you need to go on a date. You need to rekindle the old fire! Woo her. Be woo-ed.” “Thanks, Rarity.” Sunset wasn’t entirely sure that that would work, but she didn’t know what else to say. Rarity seemed to relax, her posture slackening, as she nodded. “Well, that’s settled then.” Manehattan wasn’t far away from Ponyville, and Rarity had neither the blow-up bed nor the space Rainbow had had, so after eating at some unpronounceable cafe, Sunset got on the train, the sun still bright in the sky. As the train puffed away from the station (apparently they were running a steam celebration day, and it had made her ticket twice the price), Sunset couldn’t get rid of the last thing Rarity had said – well, not actually the last thing, that had probably been a heartfelt goodbye – the last really important thing, anyway. It had been in the cafe, as they were finishing up some subtle cheesecake with not nearly enough flavour, light streaming through the shuttered window beside them. “It’s a terrible thing to say, darling, but sometimes things just don’t work out.” She hadn’t even said it about her and Twi, but it had been the thing she’d said which made the most sense all day. And as the train raced on towards the sun, Sunset couldn’t get it out of her head. IVThe Apple family farm was comfortingly familiar. The barn on the hill, the great red farmhouse, it was all exactly as she remembered, right down to the last apple. Inside, too, was similar: the rich, earthen browns and wooden planking seemingly untouched by time, as if it had been frozen at the moment of its creation. As Applejack welcomed her into the home with a brawny hug, Sunset couldn’t wipe the relieved smile off her face. This, then, would always be the same. “Great to see you, Sunset,” Applejack said as she led her through to the living room. “The spare room’s all made up, we usually keep it pretty ready. Here we go!” The hall opened up into a large room hung with pictures: family photos, showing a red-faced boy and hat-covered girl slowly sprouting in fits and starts between frames. An ancient rocking chair, likely built around the same time as the house, sat beside the couch, knitting needles placed carefully on the table to its left. The floor below was unpolished wood, covered in the most-needed spots by various and varied rugs. “Hey, Sunset,” said a voice from the patched sofa, a pale hand rising in greeting from its depths. “Fluttershy?” Sunset's voice was full of surprise. The girl rose from the sofa gracefully, a quiet smile on her face as she waved Sunset over. “We need to keep it a little quiet cause Granny’s sleeping upstairs,” said Applejack as she plonked herself down on the couch next to Fluttershy, snaking her arm round the other girl’s shoulder, “but she’s mostly deaf now, so we should be good.” “Huh,” Sunset sat down on Fluttershy’s other side, and promptly almost disappeared into the padding. “So, um,” she said, when she’d regained her perch, “Do you guys live together, now?” “Mmm...” Fluttershy pursed her lips, “not really,” as at the same time Applejack said, “Pretty much.” They looked at each other, laughed, and then Fluttershy continued, “I stay over quite a lot. Applejack needs help with the farm, so I come over when I can.” “Fluttershy,” Sunset couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “I gotta admit, I’m struggling to imagine you doing farm work.” She blushed. “Mostly I just help with the animals.” “I don’t really know what I’d do without her,” said Applejack, giving Fluttershy’s shoulder an affectionate rub. “Y’know, with Big Mac away for the bit, well, it’s a lot of work.” “I like it though,” said Fluttershy with a small smile. She’d snuggled up against Applejack’s arm, pulling her knees up to her chin. Sunset couldn’t help but melt at the two of them. It was impossible not to, with the almost visible glow of warmth that came off them. A thought struck her. “Hey, do you guys have a date night?” “A what now?” said Applejack, as Fluttershy shook her head. “Not really. We mostly just hang out around the farm...” “And in bed,” grinned Applejack. Fluttershy lowered her eyes, unable to hide her blush. “Um...did Rarity tell you to try them?” asked Fluttershy. Sunset nodded. “Yeah, she said it might help.” “She told me to, too.” “Whenabouts was this?” “When we first started, um, getting serious.” “Huh.” Applejack shrugged, then turned back to Sunset. “So did she just bring it up out of the blue, or?” “Not exactly.” Sunset chewed her lip. “I kinda asked her first.” “For you and Twilight?” Applejack raised her eyebrows. “You two okay?” “Yeah, uh, yes, we’re fine.” For some reason, it was harder to admit to these two than it had been to Rarity, or even Rainbow. “I was just asking generally.” Maybe it was seeing them so close, so happy, that made her unwilling to confess her own failure, what things were really like. Fluttershy looked at Applejack, and it was almost as if they didn’t need to speak, as if, if she weren’t there, they would be able to communicate purely through loving glances. It was ridiculous, but somehow, at the same time, true. It put her own small talk with Twilight to shame, made her want to scream, to throw up, to protest that even though their relationship was nothing compared to this that it was equally valid, that they were fine, doing good, just great thank you. “Good to hear,” said Applejack. “D’ya want a drink?” “Nah,” Sunset shrugged. “I think I’m just gonna head to bed. I had to sit and pose for Rarity for a couple years today, so I’m a bit tired.” Fluttershy smiled, and a moment later it was immediately swallowed by a yawn. She looked so startled at the sound that Sunset couldn’t help but laugh. “How long you been holding that in?” Applejack asked with a grin. “I-I swear I didn’t do that on purpose!” Fluttershy protested, but Applejack only laughed. “Looks like we need to be heading to bed, too.” “Hope the walls aren’t too thin,” joked Sunset, and Applejack gasped theatrically. “These are sturdy Apple family walls, ya heathen.” “We re-plastered them two weeks ago,” whispered Fluttershy. Sunset bid the couple goodnight amid the laughter, and settled into the spare room quickly. The walls did indeed smell faintly of fresh paint, and the old duvet, much like the couch, was constructed almost entirely of sewn-on fixes and patches. Sunset wondered idly how old the sheets actually were, and if any of the original fabric still remained. That was that philosophy thing Twilight had told her about once, like the ship that was slowly replaced by repairs until it was all gone. She suddenly missed Twi terribly. How long had it been since she’d ‘uh-huh’ and ‘hmm’d her way through one of Twi’s explanations? She didn’t dare to work it out. A cool breeze floated in from the window, and through it Sunset could just make out the moon, pale and graceful, hanging in the night sky almost as bright as the sun, like God had flipped the coin and shown the world its other side. VThey had pancakes and tea for breakfast, both of them drizzled generously in apple syrup, and Sunset couldn’t remember ever seeing Granny Smith so cheerful before. She stayed for a couple of hours to lend a quick hand, and watched incredulously as Fluttershy stomped through the mud like she was born to do it. After lunch they bid her farewell, and Sunset left the farm with a full stomach and aching arms, with her pockets full of apples at Granny’s insistence. Ponyville always seemed strangely small these days when she visited, the sort of small you never noticed until you’d lived in the city. It made her sad, the quaintness of what had once been so huge, and so she didn’t linger. She had one last stop before Canterlot. Pinkie stayed the furthest out, and though she called, was the friend Sunset saw least. Sure, it was only four hours by train, but that pretty much meant a two-day trip at minimum, and hey, the tickets weren’t cheap either. But every once in a while she made the journey (or, more usually, Pinkie made the journey) and somehow it never felt like long since they’d talked. “Sunset!” Pinkie squealed as she stepped blearily off the train. “...Pinkie?” It was always an adventure when she met Pinkie again after a while, but this was especially different. The girl’s hair was cut short – really short – and sprang up in a miniature quiff at the front. A dark purple jacket hung over her red hoodie in a sort of flesh-coloured urban get-up. “You like the new look?” “It’s...interesting, all right.” Pinkie grinned. “Oh yeah it is. Gotta move with the times.” “It’s good to see you, Pinkie,” smiled Sunset. “Aww,” Pinkie wrapped her in a tight hug long enough for Sunset to need to gasp when she let go. “So,” the girl said, when Sunset's breath had returned, “what’s wrong, tell me everything.” “What?” Sunset asked, startled. “Why would something be wrong?” “Caause you got the train halfway across the country to see me at almost no notice, you’ve been making rounds of the old gang, and apparently you’ve not been home for two days. Did I miss anything?” “No,” it was impossible not to smile around Pinkie, she was simply too infectious. “That pretty much covers it.” “Never underestimate my detecting powers,” said Pinkie wisely. “So, what’s up?” Sunset sighed. “It’s a whole thing. Um, why don’t we go somewhere not the middle of the street?” “I know just the place.” ‘Just the place’ turned out to be a small Turkish takeaway with one extremely small camping table and two extremely friendly Turks. After a whispered exchange between Pinkie and the owner, they were led to a square open-air deck somehow squeezed between four buildings and accessible only through the takeaway. A high-rise office formed one wall, and the other two appeared to be squat blocks of flats. Weeds were clearly trying to grow through the stone floors, but were being kept back with what looked like shears, from the severed stems poking through. The sun, sinking behind the horizon, already out of sight, cast a warm orange glow over the rooftops, lighting up the top of the square like a crown, the shadows slowly changing as they watched. “I can only get in this place Mondays,” Pinkie said, as if this in any way explained the situation. “Ah.” Pinkie sat down on one of the two plastic chairs and crossed her arms. “Now, spill.” Slowly, Sunset sat down opposite her. She felt incredibly silly, sitting in a lawn chair behind a takeaway at half five in the afternoon – that, she realised, was probably why Pinkie had picked this spot. “Okay,” she said, and, feeling not a little foolish, told Pinkie about Twilight, and her, and how she felt oddly estranged, though they were fine, really, probably. And after listening intently for all that, Pinkie leaned back and tapped her chin. “Right.” “Right?” Pinkie nodded confidently. “Right.” “I’m glad that’s all cleared up.” “Yup.” Pinkie frowned. “You need to talk to Twilight.” Sunset sighed. “I know, I’m going straight home tomorrow—” “No, you need to talk to Twilight today.” “...I do?” “Mmm-hmm.” Sunset took a deep breath. “And, uh, what do I say?” Pinkie looked down, as if searching for answers in her folded hands. “I think you’ve got to work that one out, Sunset.” Sunset stared at her. “Sure, but, like, were you going to give me a general outline, or...?” Pinkie shook her head firmly, and looked back up at Sunset with wide eyes. “I’m pretty sure you already know.” “I do?” Pinkie nodded. “Yep. Now, we need to get you back on that train!” “You’re acting a little weird here, Pinkie.” Pinkie looked surprised. “Really?” Sunset nodded. “Totally.” “Oh, well, that’s okay. Weird is good.” “Well, sure, but...” “Come on!” Pinkie stood sharply, and marched off back through the shop. “Sorry Kiral, we’ve got to run!” she called to the owner, and Sunset struggled out after her. “What are you doing?” she hissed, stumbling to keep up, “Surely I could wait till tomorrow!” “Nope!” cried Pinkie cheerfully, “Fraid not.” “But I’ve barely got to talk to you,” Sunset protested, “I don’t know when I’ll be back next!” “Sorry Sunset,” Pinkie was unmoved. “This is between you and Twilight.” “Well, yeah, but...” Sunset paused. “You know what, it’s fine. I’ll just go back to Twilight and say ‘hey, maybe we should try date nights or something’, and that’ll be great.” “Go for it,” Pinkie replied. “I’ll, I’ll, go up to her and say I’m sorry for not being around that much, and ask her to spend more time with me.” “Sunset,” Pinkie stopped, turned round, and closed the gap between them. She took both Sunset’s hands in her own and looked very seriously into her eyes. “You already know what you have to do.” Sunset blinked, trying to focus on her friend. “You keep saying that, but what if it’s worse after? What if I feel the same, but I don’t have her there any more either?” Pinkie drew her into a hug, holding her gently, like she was afraid Sunset might break in her arms. Or maybe that was just what Sunset felt like. “It’s already happened,” she said softly. “You’ve tried persevering, but it’s just too much. Embrace it. Hug it tight and flow with it, cause you can’t go back.” Sunset felt tears threatening to spill, felt months of vague dissatisfaction bubbling up inside her, a pressure she couldn’t ignore. And finally, as she hugged Pinkie back, it burst, and tears flowed freely down her face. “Okay,” she tried to say, but it was difficult to choke out, so instead she said, “I’m getting your jacket wet, I’m sorry.” Pinkie smiled, not that Sunset could see it, and said simply, “That’s what it’s there for.” VIIt was well into night by the time Sunset reached home, and the moon was hidden behind clouds, but that was okay, because it would come out again soon. She unlocked the door hesitantly, taking a deep breath before climbing the stairs to their flat. The lights were still on. Sunset hoped she hadn’t worried. She’d text her, but knew from experience that rarely helped. The door creaked a little as she pushed it open, foiling her attempt to sneak in quietly. Twilight was lying on the couch, a book over her face, and Sunset half-hoped she’d fallen asleep, but no such luck. She looked up as Sunset came in, propping herself up on the back of the couch as she watched. “Hey,” Sunset said as she shrugged out her jacket, hung it up on the hook, the spare one, and turned back to her girlfriend. “Hey,” Twilight replied, pushing her glasses back on her nose. Sunset looked around their flat, really looked, for the first time in months. The kitchen, with the plates carefully stacked by the basin, the fridge full of leftovers, the freezer full of ready-meals, the couch Twilight liked to read on and the seat Sunset had taken to using for TV. No pictures hung the walls, no bundles of wires strung the floor, no mess of any sort, save for a miniature microscope lying inexplicably on the coffee table. It was a place unlived-in, at least by her. Sunset swallowed, and the words were difficult, hard to let out, and impossible to take back. But they had to be said, because if she didn’t say them then nothing would change. Experiment C-13 had been a success. Who knew what it could be again in the future. “Twilight...can I talk to you a second?”
IExperiment C-13, she’d called it. She’d whispered it as they’d kissed for the very first time, and Sunset hadn’t cared to ask then, but she’d mentioned it after, too. Experiment C-13 was their relationship, and Twi had called it a resounding success. Sunset remembered grinning at that, a smile she hadn’t been able to wipe away for at least a minute after. Those had been the days. Now, Sunset just felt tired, all the time. She hadn’t really noticed it at first – no way could she pinpoint when it had begun – but it had been growing nevertheless, slowly but surely. Lately she’d been thinking about it a lot. She slept for nine or ten hours, usually, in a sort of attempt to doze the yawning away, but honestly she wasn’t sure it was helping. She’d sleep in late, get up late, and wade through most of the day with the vague feeling that she should still be in bed. It was only when the sun outside slipped below the towers that she finally felt somewhat alive, but by then she only had a few hours left before bed. The worst thing about it was that she didn’t know why. She certainly hadn’t always been like this – sure, she’d never been a morning person, but hell, who was – she used to have energy, what her mother had tactfully called ‘spirit’, now she was just exhausted. Twilight hated it. She hadn’t said it in so many words, of course, Twilight wasn’t the confrontational type, but Sunset could feel it. It was the ‘morning!’ when she came home at four, it was the irritable shifting when Sunset turned restlessly in the night, it was the way breakfast (or an attempt at it) was never left out any more. Twilight probably didn’t do it intentionally, or even consciously, but the signs were there all the same. Yes, something was seriously wrong with her. And here she lay, five in the morning, dead awake, while Twi dozed quietly beside her. Sunset sighed (slowly, so as to make as little sound as possible), and tried to close her eyes. Experiment C-13 had been a success. In the three years they’d been together, she’d been happier than she ever had before. Twi, too. That was the worst thing, really – they’d been happy. And now... It was five A.M., she shouldn’t be thinking about this. She should be counting sheep or re-adding all 31,536,000 seconds in a year or whatever, not lying here thinking how tired she was and how successful their relationship had been. It had been. It had been. Sunset covered her head with an arm and groaned into it. Happy memories, happy memories. Twilight at the Canterlot Gardens, trying to smother her laughter as Sunset pointed out that the large flower she was carefully transcribing the Latin name for looked precisely like a giant pussy. The two of them at the dance, dipping outside the hall for fresh air, and just sitting, feeling the gentle vibrations through Twi’s chest as she murmured on about the stars above. The night after graduation, after sex, just lying in bed and talking about everything, the whole future stretched out before them, as real as their tightly clasped hands. Memories not just good and happy, but special too. She looked over at the moulded form of Twilight in the covers, the smooth, subtle creases in the sheets hinting at the curves underneath, and felt...hollow. Sunset didn’t feel right now the way she remembered she should – and maybe that was the fact she could see sunlight creeping in under the curtain, and the way her mouth was all dry cause she’d been trying to sleep for three hours, and it probably had a whole lot to do with the stinging round her eyes from not enough rest, but...if she was honest, she hadn’t felt like she should for a good long while. Like, three or four months. And come to think of it, now she really tried, she realised that none of those warm, happy memories, those moments where everything crystallised around her and it was all worth it, none of those memories were all that recent. In the dim light of far-too-early morning, she could just make out the mess of purple hair spilling out over the pillow. The covers rustled, unbearably loud, as she reached out to touch it. Soft, tangled, she stroked Twi’s hair gently, but even that didn’t feel like it had. There was an odd disconnect between them that wasn’t there normally, shouldn’t be there, and she didn’t know when it had started growing. What was wrong with her? Why did those happy months feel both like yesterday and so far away as to be unreachable? Why, why, why couldn’t she get to sleep? Sunset closed her eyes and tried to hold back, to bite down on the sudden tears that welled behind her eyes, burning at the rim of her exhaustion. She needed to do something, and soon. Tomorrow-soon. Today, in fact. She had to figure out what the hell was going on and how to fix it. Yeah, she would do that. Her eyes didn’t feel quite so stinging now, they lay more comfortably closed, more naturally tired. Her hand tightened on the few strands of Twilight she held, and she felt herself relax, finally. Experiment C-13, at least, had been a success. Right?
IIGod, it was good to play like this again. This feeling, this sense of easy control, the music flowing up through her arms from the instrument, the rhythm and power of the thing, this was why she played. Sure, maybe it wasn’t quite as good as it had been once upon a time (when they were all together), but it was good all the same. She flashed a grin at Rainbow, who smirked right back. Yeah, this was life. The song finished in a flurry of twanging notes, a show-off ending that Sunset half-suspected Rainbow had made up on the spot. She’d always been a natural. “Phew!” The girl exclaimed, leaning back on her heels. “Good stuff.” She swung the guitar off her shoulder and slumped down on the couch behind. “Haven’t done that in a while.” Sunset leaned her own guitar carefully against the wall and sat down next to her. “Me neither,” she said with a grin. “I miss this.” “Yeah?” Rainbow's mouth twitched. “Your fancy Canterlot friends not jam like that?” “More like not at all.” Sunset grinned ruefully. “Mmm, I getcha. Not much need for electric guitarists in the team, either.” She paused, then sprang back off the couch. “Want a beer?” “Sure.” As Rainbow left the room, Sunset sank into the ratty couch, forcing herself to relax. It was always a little awkward being in a place she didn’t know, and Rainbow’s flat was a far cry from what she was used to. It was one of those student buildings which had clearly been built for some other purpose, probably in the times when being a student meant your family already had some spare property you could use, and whose renovation into thirteen individual flats had required the planner make some baffling choices. Sunset was not confident in her ability to find her way out through the maze of tiny staircases and corridors Rainbow had led her. Still, it was a nice flat. Fairly spacious, even if the kitchen was hidden behind a plastered-over chimney. But as she looked around it, the main thing she noticed was that it just fit. Sure, it was kind of an odd shape, and the soundproofing, judging from the tufted foam poking out from the window, was less than perfect, but it felt like Rainbow’s room. The mess of clothes spilling out the drawer, the tangle of wires in the corner, the small mountain of dishes she hadn’t bothered to clean up, it was exactly as Sunset would have imagined. Really, it looked like Rainbow’s old bedroom had thrown up all over her flat. “Hey,” Rainbow said, kicking the door closed as she re-entered, “sorry bout that. We keep the drinks in the basement, it’s always freezing down there.” She tossed a can to Sunset, cracking her own open as she flopped back down on the sofa. “So what’s up?” “Hmm?” Sunset let the cool liquid soothe her, savouring that first bitter sip. It was very cold. “Y’know.” Rainbow kicked off her trainers, sending them skidding halfway across the room, and shuffled closer. “How you doing? You okay?” Sunset blinked. “Uh, yeah? Course.” “It’s just...” Rainbow scooted even closer, squinting at her. “You seem kinda down.” Sunset swallowed slowly, letting the chill filter down her throat. “Just tired. What with college and all.” Rainbow laughed. “Tell me about it. Coach pushes us like he’s got a hard-on for heart attacks. I just want to sleeeeeep.” “Yeah. Very glad I don’t have to deal with that. I don’t think I could take waking up early on the weekends.” “It’s pretty bad,” agreed Rainbow. “It’s like, Friday night is not the night I want to have to go to sleep early.” “Totally.” There was a short silence while Rainbow finished her drink. “So anyway,” she continued, “how’s Twilight? Haven’t spoken to her in a few weeks.” Sunset tried to hide her wince. “Um, she’s fine.” “She keeping you up with, like, science stuff?” Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “No.” “She keeping you up with anything else?” she winked. Definitely not. “Uhhh...” Rainbow laughed. “I’m kidding! Kidding. But seriously, how are you two? She never tells me anything.” “We’re fine.” “Uh-huh.” “Yeah...fine.” “Okay.” Rainbow paused. “Is that it?” Sunset looked away, grasping for something to say. “We’re...good?” She could feel Rainbow’s stare. “Well, all right.” She sounded a little hurt. “Though I bet you’d tell Rarity.” “I...” “No, it’s cool. Um, you want to play something?” Rainbow gestured at the nest of wires under an ancient-looking TV beside her bed. She wanted to say something, she really did. Specifically, she wanted to say ‘hey, yeah, we’re really good, really happy, I love that girl, you know?’ but somehow, the words just got stuck in her mouth. So she didn’t say anything except “Sure,” and after that it just didn’t seem relevant any more. They moved over to Rainbow’s bed, and as they sat down Sunset commented that the squeaky springs must be annoying, and Rainbow only shrugged and said “Well, the soundproofing’s pretty good,” with an evil grin, and they both relaxed. Rainbow threw on some shooter, Sunset didn’t care to catch the name, and they spent the next hour or two yelling obscenities and having an absolute blast. Pizza was ordered, songs were played, and Rainbow’s friend Soarin came over to provide some hoarse emergency vocals. “You know,” said Sunset, as they sat on the back steps of the building, feeling the fast-cooling air brush their faces, “I’m glad I came over.” “Yeah?” Rainbow leaned back against the wooden post, letting out a long breath. “Yeah.” Sunset nodded, looking up at the changing sky, the moon just peeking between the dark rolling clouds. “Hey, you mind if I...?” She pulled a pack from her jacket. “Nah, go ahead.” By the time she’d shaken a cigarette from the box, Rainbow was holding a lighter. Sunset raised an eyebrow. “I remembered you always needed one,” said Rainbow with a smile. “Thanks,” said Sunset, and meant it. For a moment they sat there, as the clouds spun by overhead, and watched as the lights of the city replaced the light in the sky. “Sorry I was a bit...whatever, earlier,” she said. “Me and Twilight are in a bit of a weird place right now.” “Ah.” “It’s just...” Sunset sighed, blowing out a long line of smoke. “Honestly? I feel kind of distant. Like, detached. I mean we’re still living together and everything, and I still...still love her, but...” She looked over at Rainbow, who was watching her. “Damn, that’s, um, rough. I was just expecting you to say you were doing fine.” “I did say we were doing fine,” said Sunset flatly. “Well yeah, but more detailed.” She looked away. “Should you go see a marriage counsellor or something?” Sunset blinked. “We’re not married.” “You don’t have to be actually married to see a marriage counsellor, right?” “You...don’t?” “I don’t know,” Rainbow laughed, a little nervously. “Probably.” Sunset rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh, too. “You’re useless.” “Yeah, sorry.” Rainbow smiled. “Rarity would totally be a better person to talk to about this.” “Mmm.” Sunset sucked in another breath and slowly let it out, watching the smoke wisp and tear apart on the breeze. “Why can’t things just stay the same?” Rainbow was silent for a minute, long enough for Sunset to turn to see if she had heard. “I don’t know,” she said eventually. “Aren’t they?” Sunset didn’t have an answer. They turned back to the sky then, and after another cigarette or two, went inside. Sunset slept on an inflatable mattress Rainbow borrowed off a flatmate, and it felt like an old-school sleepover all over again, except that Rainbow had to get up early, and was already gone by the time Sunset rose.
III“Darling, do try to keep still.” “I am!” “Well...try harder.” This, admittedly, was not how Sunset had imagined things going. It shouldn’t really have been a surprise, though – Rarity had always been worryingly merciless about roping them into her fashion. The couple times they’d dared to perform as a band Rarity had dressed them, and every year like clockwork they’d been her models at the school fashion show. It was only with great effort (and the promise of letting her okay their outfits) that they’d persuaded her not to make their clothes for the school dances. This, though, was new. Sunset squirmed under the intensity of Rarity's gaze, trying to resist her growing need to scratch. She could only imagine how bad Rainbow or Applejack would have been at this. “...Done – wait, hang on, just one last little – there, now we’re done.” “Oh thank goodness.” Sunset let every muscle in her body go loose, closing her eyes and letting herself hang on the chair. “Oh, no, hold on, could you sit back up for a moment—” Sunset cracked an eyelid, and saw Rarity’s mischievous grin. “Oh, ha ha, very funny.” The girl had a high, tinkling laugh, and Sunset felt a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Sorry darling, you did look rather pent-up.” Sunset gave a groan of acknowledgement, and closed her eyes again. As Rarity tidied her stuff away, Sunset slowly sat up, strength returning to her body in trickles. Rarity’s room was small, contained, and artistically untidy. If you took away the scraps of cloth, scissors, pencils, and everything else, and tidied them away in the places which were supposed to house them, the place would be genuinely clean – ordered, even. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” Sunset said, gesturing at the cluttered desk. Rarity glanced round. “Yes, well, they didn’t give me much to work with.” “It’s not too bad...” said Sunset. Rarity snorted. “Have you seen that mansion Dashie’s staying in? Horrid place, but gosh the possibilities are endless. Here I’m not even allowed to cover the walls!” She tapped the plaster with a knuckle. “Regulation blue, and I’m only allowed to alter that,” Rarity gestured to a tiny corkboard laden with everything from pictures to ribbons. Sunset noticed with a smile that several photos of the gang were pinned up alongside the magazine cutouts. “Tragic.” “Never has the word been more fitting,” agreed Rarity. “So, what can I do for you?” “Nuh-uh.” Sunset shook her head. “I want to see, first.” “Oh,” Rarity looked away. “Well you know, darling, it’s just a sketch, it’s not really worth—” If any look could say ‘I-didn’t-sit-for-however-long-to-not-see-the-drawing’, it was the one Sunset shot Rarity. “Oh, all right,” Rarity said, leaning back to grab her paper, “but it really is just a sketch.” That much, Sunset saw, was certainly true. “It’s, uh...” Rarity gave a small smile. “Not exactly up to my usual standards?” she finished. “That wasn’t what I was going to say!” “Well, it’s true.” Rarity shifted, a little uncomfortably. “The instructors say I have to practise my ‘life drawing skills’, but I think they really mean I’ve got to develop some.” Sunset frowned. “Well, it’s certainly a lot better than what I could do,” she offered. “Thanks,” Rarity smiled. “Now, enough about me, what did you want to talk about?” “It’s nothing much, really,” Sunset said quickly. “It’s just, uh, well, I was talking to Rainbow, and she said maybe I should come here.” “She did?” Rarity looked concerned. “It was just about me and Twilight,” Sunset said, “and, yeah, you’re the expert on this type of stuff, so...” Rarity nodded, a little relieved. “I see.” She straightened her skirt and sat up, concentration setting in her eyes, and Sunset thought that all she needed was a notebook and pen, or – yes, a pipe, and the detective look would be complete. “So...yeah.” There was a pause, until Rarity prompted, “So how are you an Twilight doing, anyway?” “Um,” Sunset blinked. “We’re doing fine.” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. I guess we’re doing okay. I just feel a bit...” detached, removed, alone “out of it?” “Out of it,” repeated Rarity, and Sunset got the distinct impression she should be scribbling that on a small cream page. “Yeah, like obviously we live together and stuff, but – well, I don’t see as much of her as I used to, but that’s kinda my fault – really it’s that I feel separate.” Yes, that was it. Separate like she didn’t know what Twilight was feeling any more, separate like they didn’t sit next to each other on the sofa, separate like their clocks were slowly de-syncing... “Separate?” Rarity tapped her leg thoughtfully. “Do you think it would it help you two to spend some quality time together? Clear your schedules for a weekend, set aside a day or two, or even a week, go have a meal?” “Umm...” Sunset couldn’t remember the last time they’d eaten together. “You two have a date night, right?” “We live together, isn’t a date night sort of pointless?” “Mon Dieu! Darling, a date night is the key to a healthy relationship.” “Oh.” “When did all this start?” Wasn't that just the thing. “I’m not sure.” Rarity frowned. “If you work that out, you could find out what changed. When was the last time you two properly talked?” Sunset swallowed. “I...we talk.” “All right,” Rarity sounded a little calmer. “Then you need to go on a date. You need to rekindle the old fire! Woo her. Be woo-ed.” “Thanks, Rarity.” Sunset wasn’t entirely sure that that would work, but she didn’t know what else to say. Rarity seemed to relax, her posture slackening, as she nodded. “Well, that’s settled then.” Manehattan wasn’t far away from Ponyville, and Rarity had neither the blow-up bed nor the space Rainbow had had, so after eating at some unpronounceable cafe, Sunset got on the train, the sun still bright in the sky. As the train puffed away from the station (apparently they were running a steam celebration day, and it had made her ticket twice the price), Sunset couldn’t get rid of the last thing Rarity had said – well, not actually the last thing, that had probably been a heartfelt goodbye – the last really important thing, anyway. It had been in the cafe, as they were finishing up some subtle cheesecake with not nearly enough flavour, light streaming through the shuttered window beside them. “It’s a terrible thing to say, darling, but sometimes things just don’t work out.” She hadn’t even said it about her and Twi, but it had been the thing she’d said which made the most sense all day. And as the train raced on towards the sun, Sunset couldn’t get it out of her head.
IVThe Apple family farm was comfortingly familiar. The barn on the hill, the great red farmhouse, it was all exactly as she remembered, right down to the last apple. Inside, too, was similar: the rich, earthen browns and wooden planking seemingly untouched by time, as if it had been frozen at the moment of its creation. As Applejack welcomed her into the home with a brawny hug, Sunset couldn’t wipe the relieved smile off her face. This, then, would always be the same. “Great to see you, Sunset,” Applejack said as she led her through to the living room. “The spare room’s all made up, we usually keep it pretty ready. Here we go!” The hall opened up into a large room hung with pictures: family photos, showing a red-faced boy and hat-covered girl slowly sprouting in fits and starts between frames. An ancient rocking chair, likely built around the same time as the house, sat beside the couch, knitting needles placed carefully on the table to its left. The floor below was unpolished wood, covered in the most-needed spots by various and varied rugs. “Hey, Sunset,” said a voice from the patched sofa, a pale hand rising in greeting from its depths. “Fluttershy?” Sunset's voice was full of surprise. The girl rose from the sofa gracefully, a quiet smile on her face as she waved Sunset over. “We need to keep it a little quiet cause Granny’s sleeping upstairs,” said Applejack as she plonked herself down on the couch next to Fluttershy, snaking her arm round the other girl’s shoulder, “but she’s mostly deaf now, so we should be good.” “Huh,” Sunset sat down on Fluttershy’s other side, and promptly almost disappeared into the padding. “So, um,” she said, when she’d regained her perch, “Do you guys live together, now?” “Mmm...” Fluttershy pursed her lips, “not really,” as at the same time Applejack said, “Pretty much.” They looked at each other, laughed, and then Fluttershy continued, “I stay over quite a lot. Applejack needs help with the farm, so I come over when I can.” “Fluttershy,” Sunset couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “I gotta admit, I’m struggling to imagine you doing farm work.” She blushed. “Mostly I just help with the animals.” “I don’t really know what I’d do without her,” said Applejack, giving Fluttershy’s shoulder an affectionate rub. “Y’know, with Big Mac away for the bit, well, it’s a lot of work.” “I like it though,” said Fluttershy with a small smile. She’d snuggled up against Applejack’s arm, pulling her knees up to her chin. Sunset couldn’t help but melt at the two of them. It was impossible not to, with the almost visible glow of warmth that came off them. A thought struck her. “Hey, do you guys have a date night?” “A what now?” said Applejack, as Fluttershy shook her head. “Not really. We mostly just hang out around the farm...” “And in bed,” grinned Applejack. Fluttershy lowered her eyes, unable to hide her blush. “Um...did Rarity tell you to try them?” asked Fluttershy. Sunset nodded. “Yeah, she said it might help.” “She told me to, too.” “Whenabouts was this?” “When we first started, um, getting serious.” “Huh.” Applejack shrugged, then turned back to Sunset. “So did she just bring it up out of the blue, or?” “Not exactly.” Sunset chewed her lip. “I kinda asked her first.” “For you and Twilight?” Applejack raised her eyebrows. “You two okay?” “Yeah, uh, yes, we’re fine.” For some reason, it was harder to admit to these two than it had been to Rarity, or even Rainbow. “I was just asking generally.” Maybe it was seeing them so close, so happy, that made her unwilling to confess her own failure, what things were really like. Fluttershy looked at Applejack, and it was almost as if they didn’t need to speak, as if, if she weren’t there, they would be able to communicate purely through loving glances. It was ridiculous, but somehow, at the same time, true. It put her own small talk with Twilight to shame, made her want to scream, to throw up, to protest that even though their relationship was nothing compared to this that it was equally valid, that they were fine, doing good, just great thank you. “Good to hear,” said Applejack. “D’ya want a drink?” “Nah,” Sunset shrugged. “I think I’m just gonna head to bed. I had to sit and pose for Rarity for a couple years today, so I’m a bit tired.” Fluttershy smiled, and a moment later it was immediately swallowed by a yawn. She looked so startled at the sound that Sunset couldn’t help but laugh. “How long you been holding that in?” Applejack asked with a grin. “I-I swear I didn’t do that on purpose!” Fluttershy protested, but Applejack only laughed. “Looks like we need to be heading to bed, too.” “Hope the walls aren’t too thin,” joked Sunset, and Applejack gasped theatrically. “These are sturdy Apple family walls, ya heathen.” “We re-plastered them two weeks ago,” whispered Fluttershy. Sunset bid the couple goodnight amid the laughter, and settled into the spare room quickly. The walls did indeed smell faintly of fresh paint, and the old duvet, much like the couch, was constructed almost entirely of sewn-on fixes and patches. Sunset wondered idly how old the sheets actually were, and if any of the original fabric still remained. That was that philosophy thing Twilight had told her about once, like the ship that was slowly replaced by repairs until it was all gone. She suddenly missed Twi terribly. How long had it been since she’d ‘uh-huh’ and ‘hmm’d her way through one of Twi’s explanations? She didn’t dare to work it out. A cool breeze floated in from the window, and through it Sunset could just make out the moon, pale and graceful, hanging in the night sky almost as bright as the sun, like God had flipped the coin and shown the world its other side.
VThey had pancakes and tea for breakfast, both of them drizzled generously in apple syrup, and Sunset couldn’t remember ever seeing Granny Smith so cheerful before. She stayed for a couple of hours to lend a quick hand, and watched incredulously as Fluttershy stomped through the mud like she was born to do it. After lunch they bid her farewell, and Sunset left the farm with a full stomach and aching arms, with her pockets full of apples at Granny’s insistence. Ponyville always seemed strangely small these days when she visited, the sort of small you never noticed until you’d lived in the city. It made her sad, the quaintness of what had once been so huge, and so she didn’t linger. She had one last stop before Canterlot. Pinkie stayed the furthest out, and though she called, was the friend Sunset saw least. Sure, it was only four hours by train, but that pretty much meant a two-day trip at minimum, and hey, the tickets weren’t cheap either. But every once in a while she made the journey (or, more usually, Pinkie made the journey) and somehow it never felt like long since they’d talked. “Sunset!” Pinkie squealed as she stepped blearily off the train. “...Pinkie?” It was always an adventure when she met Pinkie again after a while, but this was especially different. The girl’s hair was cut short – really short – and sprang up in a miniature quiff at the front. A dark purple jacket hung over her red hoodie in a sort of flesh-coloured urban get-up. “You like the new look?” “It’s...interesting, all right.” Pinkie grinned. “Oh yeah it is. Gotta move with the times.” “It’s good to see you, Pinkie,” smiled Sunset. “Aww,” Pinkie wrapped her in a tight hug long enough for Sunset to need to gasp when she let go. “So,” the girl said, when Sunset's breath had returned, “what’s wrong, tell me everything.” “What?” Sunset asked, startled. “Why would something be wrong?” “Caause you got the train halfway across the country to see me at almost no notice, you’ve been making rounds of the old gang, and apparently you’ve not been home for two days. Did I miss anything?” “No,” it was impossible not to smile around Pinkie, she was simply too infectious. “That pretty much covers it.” “Never underestimate my detecting powers,” said Pinkie wisely. “So, what’s up?” Sunset sighed. “It’s a whole thing. Um, why don’t we go somewhere not the middle of the street?” “I know just the place.” ‘Just the place’ turned out to be a small Turkish takeaway with one extremely small camping table and two extremely friendly Turks. After a whispered exchange between Pinkie and the owner, they were led to a square open-air deck somehow squeezed between four buildings and accessible only through the takeaway. A high-rise office formed one wall, and the other two appeared to be squat blocks of flats. Weeds were clearly trying to grow through the stone floors, but were being kept back with what looked like shears, from the severed stems poking through. The sun, sinking behind the horizon, already out of sight, cast a warm orange glow over the rooftops, lighting up the top of the square like a crown, the shadows slowly changing as they watched. “I can only get in this place Mondays,” Pinkie said, as if this in any way explained the situation. “Ah.” Pinkie sat down on one of the two plastic chairs and crossed her arms. “Now, spill.” Slowly, Sunset sat down opposite her. She felt incredibly silly, sitting in a lawn chair behind a takeaway at half five in the afternoon – that, she realised, was probably why Pinkie had picked this spot. “Okay,” she said, and, feeling not a little foolish, told Pinkie about Twilight, and her, and how she felt oddly estranged, though they were fine, really, probably. And after listening intently for all that, Pinkie leaned back and tapped her chin. “Right.” “Right?” Pinkie nodded confidently. “Right.” “I’m glad that’s all cleared up.” “Yup.” Pinkie frowned. “You need to talk to Twilight.” Sunset sighed. “I know, I’m going straight home tomorrow—” “No, you need to talk to Twilight today.” “...I do?” “Mmm-hmm.” Sunset took a deep breath. “And, uh, what do I say?” Pinkie looked down, as if searching for answers in her folded hands. “I think you’ve got to work that one out, Sunset.” Sunset stared at her. “Sure, but, like, were you going to give me a general outline, or...?” Pinkie shook her head firmly, and looked back up at Sunset with wide eyes. “I’m pretty sure you already know.” “I do?” Pinkie nodded. “Yep. Now, we need to get you back on that train!” “You’re acting a little weird here, Pinkie.” Pinkie looked surprised. “Really?” Sunset nodded. “Totally.” “Oh, well, that’s okay. Weird is good.” “Well, sure, but...” “Come on!” Pinkie stood sharply, and marched off back through the shop. “Sorry Kiral, we’ve got to run!” she called to the owner, and Sunset struggled out after her. “What are you doing?” she hissed, stumbling to keep up, “Surely I could wait till tomorrow!” “Nope!” cried Pinkie cheerfully, “Fraid not.” “But I’ve barely got to talk to you,” Sunset protested, “I don’t know when I’ll be back next!” “Sorry Sunset,” Pinkie was unmoved. “This is between you and Twilight.” “Well, yeah, but...” Sunset paused. “You know what, it’s fine. I’ll just go back to Twilight and say ‘hey, maybe we should try date nights or something’, and that’ll be great.” “Go for it,” Pinkie replied. “I’ll, I’ll, go up to her and say I’m sorry for not being around that much, and ask her to spend more time with me.” “Sunset,” Pinkie stopped, turned round, and closed the gap between them. She took both Sunset’s hands in her own and looked very seriously into her eyes. “You already know what you have to do.” Sunset blinked, trying to focus on her friend. “You keep saying that, but what if it’s worse after? What if I feel the same, but I don’t have her there any more either?” Pinkie drew her into a hug, holding her gently, like she was afraid Sunset might break in her arms. Or maybe that was just what Sunset felt like. “It’s already happened,” she said softly. “You’ve tried persevering, but it’s just too much. Embrace it. Hug it tight and flow with it, cause you can’t go back.” Sunset felt tears threatening to spill, felt months of vague dissatisfaction bubbling up inside her, a pressure she couldn’t ignore. And finally, as she hugged Pinkie back, it burst, and tears flowed freely down her face. “Okay,” she tried to say, but it was difficult to choke out, so instead she said, “I’m getting your jacket wet, I’m sorry.” Pinkie smiled, not that Sunset could see it, and said simply, “That’s what it’s there for.”
VIIt was well into night by the time Sunset reached home, and the moon was hidden behind clouds, but that was okay, because it would come out again soon. She unlocked the door hesitantly, taking a deep breath before climbing the stairs to their flat. The lights were still on. Sunset hoped she hadn’t worried. She’d text her, but knew from experience that rarely helped. The door creaked a little as she pushed it open, foiling her attempt to sneak in quietly. Twilight was lying on the couch, a book over her face, and Sunset half-hoped she’d fallen asleep, but no such luck. She looked up as Sunset came in, propping herself up on the back of the couch as she watched. “Hey,” Sunset said as she shrugged out her jacket, hung it up on the hook, the spare one, and turned back to her girlfriend. “Hey,” Twilight replied, pushing her glasses back on her nose. Sunset looked around their flat, really looked, for the first time in months. The kitchen, with the plates carefully stacked by the basin, the fridge full of leftovers, the freezer full of ready-meals, the couch Twilight liked to read on and the seat Sunset had taken to using for TV. No pictures hung the walls, no bundles of wires strung the floor, no mess of any sort, save for a miniature microscope lying inexplicably on the coffee table. It was a place unlived-in, at least by her. Sunset swallowed, and the words were difficult, hard to let out, and impossible to take back. But they had to be said, because if she didn’t say them then nothing would change. Experiment C-13 had been a success. Who knew what it could be again in the future. “Twilight...can I talk to you a second?”
